


a splendid time is guaranteed for all

by hunted



Series: Original Works [24]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Adult Characters (Aged 21 or Older), Ambiguous/Open Ending, Amnesia, Begging, Bodily Fluids, Breeding, Choking, Clowns, Creampie, Crying, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, Fear of Discovery, Forced, Forced Orgasm, Horror, Humiliation, Hypnotism, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Impregnation, Manhandling, Manipulation, Masturbation, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Mind Control, Mindfuck, Missionary Position, Monsters, No Lube, Not Beta Read, Original Character(s), Other, Outdoor Sex, Painful Sex, Past Rape/Non-con, Penetration (Front Hole Sex), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Psychological Horror, Public Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Risk of Pregnancy, Rough Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Smut, Stalking, Supernatural Elements, Surreal, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Unreliable Narrator, Unwilling Arousal, Violence, Weirdness, coulrophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:22:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23321638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunted/pseuds/hunted
Summary: Jack goes to the circus and encounters a clown....Do not re-upload this work elsewhere. I do not give permission for my writing to be copied.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Clown
Series: Original Works [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1480958
Comments: 2
Kudos: 192





	a splendid time is guaranteed for all

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Clowns are the Pegs on which the Circus is Hung](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23103145) by [testicularContortions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/testicularContortions/pseuds/testicularContortions). 



> Title taken from [Being For The Benefit Of Mr. Kite!](https://youtu.be/bJVWZy4QOy0) by The Beatles.  
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> Yeah, uh, right, so, AO3 user testicularContortions fucking _ruined_ me with a gloriously sexy, utterly disturbing, clown story. Apparently the aim was to "instil a deep, reluctant horniness for clowns" in readers' minds, and y'know what, fucking victory there. So here we go. Some good ol' fashioned clown fucking. Probably a lot darker than the original, but yeah, the central theme is definitely clown fucking. Don't get it twisted. You know what you're about to read. It's not nice and it's certainly not vanilla. **Everything is tagged.**  
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> No feminising language is used for the trans man's anatomy (mainly due to personal preference and where my dysphoria is currently at). However, the story explores non-consensual sex by way of horror themes, and mentions the trans male character having sex prior to his transition, so if that will trigger you, please do not read on. It's not meant to be a reflection of a healthy sexual history. For more information on trans male representation in fandom spaces, see [this guide](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20475404).  
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> As always, I do not condone rape. This is a fantasy, written only to provide masturbation material, and to just, like, make use of the clown-centric horny energy that I now apparently possess. People who have rape fantasies [do not actually want to be raped](https://metro.co.uk/2017/11/29/why-do-half-of-women-have-fantasies-about-being-raped-7099630/), or witness rape. A fantasy is not the same as reality, nor would the experience of being assaulted be anything like a person's fantasy. Trans men with certain humiliation kinks are not invalidated by their fetishes. We can be into all kinds of shit, it doesn't stop us being men. For more information on safely exploring kink and fantasy, see [this website](http://bdsmwiki.info/BDSM_101). Also, this fic contains choking, and I would caution you that choking is among the most dangerous BDSM practices, and should be approached very carefully, or avoided entirely.  
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> Last warning: this is a dark story involving a clown, a rape fantasy, an unreliable narrator, and a trans man being penetrated, with mentions of impregnation. Proceed with caution! Don't leave hate comments. Adults having dark fantasies, and possibly exploring those fantasies with other consenting adults, is not an endorsement of rape or sexual assault. If this content upsets you, do not engage with it. Conversely, if stories like this one awaken unhealthy urges within you, use your own discretion. Exit out of this browser window and go to a therapist.

The first thing he thought was, _it’s watching me._

Not _somebody,_ not _that man over there._ It wasn’t a person. It was a thing. A creature.

The carnival was rich and vibrant, light and music and crowds and cheery claustrophobia pressing in on him from all sides, balloons and wide mouths blurring into a messy haze, laughter so intense it was almost screaming. Rusted gears ground against metal, creaking and shrieking, small palms flailing against handrails as children were swung through the air like ants, only the mess would be so much worse should they be crushed by the merciless heel of giant steel rides.

Jack had noticed their absence until now, had privately remarked on the lack of clowns in the throng, the frilly terror and smiling teeth, shark grins crowned by silly wigs and alien eyes. He'd been relieved that this circus apparently didn't do clowns, as improbable as that sounded. He’d never fucking liked clowns. Not once. Something had happened, a long time ago, that had scarred him. He’d forgotten, but never really healed. He tried not to think about it. He just assumed it was a funny phobia.

He’d stepped away from his date. Just for a moment, to catch his breath. The romantic outing had been nice so far, but he just needed a second away from the insanity, his nerves frayed by sexual tension and environmental overstimulation. His underwear was damp from arousal, imagining his date's fingers stroking him and then dipping inside, and his temples ached from the constant barrage of noise and colour. It had been a long time since he'd been fucked. He wanted it almost as passionately as he wanted to get away from this carnival.

He had found himself a somewhat quieter nook. Behind the caravans, near an engine that roared mechanically and spluttered every few seconds like a chain smoker clearing their throat. The air was thick with the stench of cotton candy and musky sweat, screams and giggles still deafening him, ears ringing in the comparative hush. He had become so aware of his footfalls, dry blades of brown grass crunching beneath his sneakers, his legs prickling despite the unseasonably muggy temperature. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his breaths were loud.

That was when he saw it.

A clown.

It was standing a few paces from him, so still that he thought it must be a statue, or that he was dreaming. It was too surreal to actually exist, shrouded in the shadow of the caravans, painted so oddly into the background despite its proximity. It wore a puffy shirt with a flower pattern splashed violently across it, fabric tucked into a strained waistband, bulging with the weight of its hanging belly. Its shoes were blood red and cartoonishly huge, pants striped, the pattern swelling unsettlingly over its bulky legs. Its arms were locked stiff against its sides, hands clenched into meaty fists, any illusion of jovial carnival dressup spoiled by the solid wrists and arm hair that emerged from the gloves’ cotton hems. Its face was ungodly, a bright smile painted onto its skin, so broad and cheerful that it almost looked painful. A big red nose completed the horridly childlike mask, sitting surreally between two wide, staring, soulless eyes.

It watched Jack.

Jack watched it back.

He couldn’t move. He was sure that this wasn’t real. The thing had to be a fucking statue. There was no way this was actually happening.

Then the clown’s belly moved with a slow breath, and Jack felt his heart take off into a sprinting beat, anxiety pumping through his veins like toxic battery acid. His cheeks flushed with a terrified wave of heat, his lips parting on a trembling breath, body ticking into overdrive just from the presence of this clown. He remembered something. Something from very long ago. Something important. But he couldn’t say what it was. He just knew that this had happened before.

The thing stepped towards him. One huge red shoe, settling down onto the grass. Jack felt himself quivering. His knees locked straight, ankles unsteady as he teetered on his feet, rigid and wobbly all at once, head spinning. He wanted to collapse. He wanted to run, but he couldn't. He remembered a bed. A mattress, moving. The sounds of breathing, so loud in the darkness. Hushed laughter. His bedroom. His bed.

"No," Jack whispered, throat clicking as his voice caught, tears rushing to his eyes.

The clown moved toward him. Closer, now. Its breaths came quicker, but not out of fear. It was excited. Towering over Jack, making him feel tiny. Its gut brushed against him, and his shoulders hunched, torso curling away from the approaching creature. The white paint on its face was cracked and horrible to see up close, cheeks taut and rounded with a giant grin, fleshy lips pulled back to reveal a snarling smile, as if the red paint had dried in place and frozen the face beneath. The clown's eyes were glittering with glee. It was thrilled. Eager. Hungry. Jack felt hot breaths huff against his face. The rabid panting of a dog in heat. He was still desperately sure that this wasn't happening. This wasn't real.

It reached up, placed one giant hand against Jack's shoulder.

The spell was broken.

Jack spun on his heel, wrenching himself from its grip. Immediately, he was seized from behind, thick fingers grabbing his arms. Within one terrible instant, he knew that he would not be able to escape.

"Help! Help me! Help m-"

The clown slammed him down onto the ground, its body weight crushing him. All the air rushed from Jack's lungs, his screams tapering off into a gurgled grunt. It trapped him there, panting excitedly into his ear, grinding its huge hips against him like an animal aching to force its cock into a warm hole. Jack scrabbled against the dirt, dust making him cough, but he knew he couldn't escape. He remembered creaking bed springs. The tap of wooden bedposts against brick. A clown in his bedroom, watching him like a demon, jumping down on top of him and reaching between his spread thighs. He remembered this, countless times before. Lessons hidden from his mind. The touch of a monstrous jester. The waking nightmare hiding just below the surface. His invisible stalker.

"No, no, no, no," he sobbed, shaking his head wildly, "No, no, no, don't, don't, stop, don't, please,"

His hiccupped pleas weren't met with sympathy or pause. He was dizzy with renewed memories. Old dreams. He felt the waistband of his shorts being yanked down by insistent fingers.

"No, no, no, stop, stop- mmf! Mmm!"

White cotton pressed against his mouth, a hand shutting him up. He writhed in the dirt, nose irritated by the dust, eyes watering.

"Mmm! Mmm!"

There was no point struggling. He knew that. He kicked and wailed for all it was worth, but still his shorts wound up crumpled around his knees, underwear torn midway down his thighs, his sneakered feet uselessly flailing, a cloud of dust framing the pair. The clown reached past the curve of his ass and down to the beginning of his wet hole, gloved fingers pressing inward, seeking entry. Jack cried.

The clown made a strange noise, an excited coo that was almost a yelp, happily fumbling with its own pants, hissing breaths through its smile, teeth locked in a tight clench. There was the clink of a belt, and Jack knew what was coming. He knew he couldn't flee, but he still fought. He still struggled.

"Mmm! Mmmm! _Mmmmm!!"_

There was a blunt pressure against him, and then the creature pushed inside. Jack screamed into the clown's palm. The dirt was different. The carnival, the lights, the sound of crowds jostling- that was all different from last time. But he knew this cock. He knew the pressure against his back, the panting in his ear. He had been fucked by this clown before. He tried to scramble for freedom, haunted by the times he had tried to run away before. He remembered being younger. Smaller. How his hole had stretched around the invading girth. How wet he had become, against his will. How it had hurt.

He sobbed hysterically. His body was jolted in place as the clown pressed entirely inside him. He remembered now. Seed overflowing inside. A slick cock pounding him, a horrifying painted face smiling down at him as he was violated. How many times had he been raped by this creature? How many times, over how many years?

The clown crouched on top of him, hugging against him as it started to rock its hips fast, heavy balls slapping against Jack's skin. The generator hummed, blanketing Jack's muffled cries further. He wondered whether someone would come and rescue him. Whether someone would find him here.

***

Oliver leaned back in an unsteady plastic chair, tapping one foot against the dirt, picking at a cloud of cotton candy which had been spun around a wooden popsicle stick. He licked at his lips, tasted sickly sweet sugar, and wondered what was taking Jack so long.

He really liked this guy, and he was nervous about tonight, but eagerly awaiting every moment they spent together. He'd never dated a trans man, and had been surprised by now utterly irrelevant his prospective boyfriend's transition was. Really, it was a non-issue. Oliver had tentatively browsed some trans porn sites and found himself aroused by the videos he encountered. He didn't know what Jack was comfortable with. They hadn't talked about it. But Oliver wanted to know. He really did. He wanted to do things to such a gorgeous, handsome, unique man. He wanted Jack to do things to him, too; he wanted to be held down and ruined. He wanted Jack to teach him about this new world. A kind of male body that Oliver had never before been given the privilege to appreciate.

He looked around, shifting uncomfortably on the warped chair. He couldn't see Jack anywhere. He hoped that the carnival hadn't overwhelmed him too much.

A few more minutes, and he decided he would go look for his date.

***

Jack's eyes were unfocussed and glazed, his cheek smushed against the ground. Senseless, broken sounds escaped his mouth as he was fucked. His head lolled, neck swayed by thrusts. The clown giggled and growled against his neck as it raped him.

He felt his body aching, hot and so thoroughly invaded. The rhythmic slapping was wetter, now. He wanted to believe that the thick fluid smeared over the clown's length was just its come, but he knew better. He was opening up, becoming aroused. He was wet. He wanted it. He wanted the weight hammering deep inside him, slamming against the meaty sensitivity of his insides, cock so thick and real that he could scarcely believe it.

The clown had let his mouth go. Its hands roamed his body, grabbing at him and molesting him eagerly. It licked the side of Jack's face, leaving a trail of sickening saliva over his cheekbone. It knew he wouldn't try and escape again. It wanted to mark him, taste him, corrupt every inch of skin. Inside and out, it would taint him.

"Pl- Please..." He whispered the words, syllables broken and interrupted by the pace of the clown's motions. "Please stop... Wait..."

The clown laughed louder. Jack flinched. The gleeful trills sounded like a threat. The creature was determined that he enjoy this. _Don't lie to me,_ it was telling him, in its disgusting, perverse, hideously jovial way.

Jack squeezed his eyes shut and lay there obediently, allowing himself to be fucked. His silent submission was noticed. The kind of wordless dance they were performing was not new. Jack didn't know how many times this had been done to him, how many times they'd fucked, but he knew what was expected of him. He knew what this monster wanted.

He continued to cry quietly, weeping into the dirt. But he also forced himself to moan, forced himself past the hatred and the fear and the repulsion. He heard himself whimpering. Felt the arousal coiling, thick and honeyed and burning, in his gut. He hated it. He hated it. He hated it. He _loved_ it.

"Please... Please...!"

It kept fucking him. Harder, like it knew what he was asking for, and what he simultaneously feared more than anything else in the world.

"Please... I... I'm..."

He couldn't say it. But the clown wanted him to. The clown wanted his desire. Jack sobbed. He felt drugged. He felt lightheaded. He was having sex. He was being _forced._ The world was sideways, shuddering, and splintering. Flashes of the past blinded him. He remembered being fucked during his final year of school, back before he transitioned. This same clown's hands had tugged at the buttons of his too-tight dress. His hair had been long, then. When he'd begged for it to stop, his voice had been higher. Jack, laying in the dirt, felt a pulse of heat. That had been his first time. A phantom clown, cornering him in the change rooms. Raping him against the wall. How he'd despised it. How he'd loved it. A cock deep inside him. Such sensations. Such cruelty. He hadn't been sure of his gender back then, but somehow he'd felt that this clown understood him, even as it ripped him apart, even as the curve of a fleshy limb pounded him against damp tiles. There was something about this horrifying creature. It was tied to him. Deep inside his soul. It had always been there. Always been watching him. Waiting until he was blooming into adulthood to claim him as its own. He felt that it saw him as a man. He didn't know why.

The clown took hold of his shoulders, yanked its cock out of his body. He gasped at the sudden emptiness.

"What-"

He was pulled up off the ground and thrown back down again, his back connecting solidly with the dirt. The clown curled its hands beneath his thighs, lifted his legs, exposing his wet hole. His face flushed with embarrassment, and no small degree of pleasure.

"No," he whispered, humiliated by the newfound exposure, "No, please don't-"

The clown took hold of his shirt collar, tore it cleanly. It ran its gloved palm down Jack's smooth chest, fingers dragging over the puckered scars which stretched from his armpits to toward the centre of his sternum. Jack trembled, just waiting for the fucking to continue, his hole clenching around nothing, toes curling inside his sneakers. The clown looked down at him, breathing hard, still perversely excited. He looked up at it hopelessly. The carnival continued nearby. The crowds almost sounded closer. He wondered if someone would see him like this.

"What?" He said brokenly. "What are you thinking?"

The clown continued to pant through its horrific smile, teeth clenched, lips drawn back. Jack started to cry again, with renewed emotion.

"Just fuck me," he begged, "Just d- do it, I don't know what you want, I don't- Just do it!"

The creature continued to watch him. Then, achingly slowly and without the force it had used to begin this ordeal, the clown took the base of its cock in one hand, guiding itself inside. It reached down with its other hand, seizing the nape of Jack's neck, forcing his head up off the ground. Jack was made to watch as they joined, inches of flesh disappearing into him. He felt his arousal grow. Seeing them press together, pelvis to pelvis, made him even more aware of what was happening.

"I shouldn't," he tried to speak, voice scratchy and broken, "I don't want- I shouldn't want this, I-"

The clown swivelled its hips, still huffing fast breaths through its exposed teeth. Jack groaned, the insides of his thighs pressed against the creature's bulk, framing the huge clown.

"Stop..."

The clown drew its hips back, pushed in again. Slower. More deliberate. Jack's body squelched deep inside, and he flushed with humiliation. He heard the scuff of footsteps, a large crowd of circus-goers wandering nearby. Near the caravans. Jack looked up at the clown, panic in his eyes. The clown seemed to grin wider, as if that were even possible. It drew its hips back again. And then forward. Still, the voices crept closer.

"I want to go on the ferris wheel," a whining voice complained.

"The ferris wheel is so _boring,"_ another voice replied.

The clown kept fucking Jack. He knew he should yell out for help, knew he should scream and kick and beg for rescue.

"Let's try the rollercoaster. That's more fun."

"The rollercoasters make me sick!"

"Well, that's your problem!"

The youths continued to bicker and argue. They sounded so close. If they rounded the corner, if they stepped into the shadows, they would see what was happening only a few paces from them. Jack sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, gaze hooded as he watched the clown's dick plunge repeatedly into his body. Did he want them to walk around the corner? Did he want them to see him being defiled? He felt helpless. He liked it.

The clown continued on, unfazed. Eventually, the small gathering of people moved away, deciding which ride to go on next. The clown's efforts intensified. It started fucking Jack harder. In reward or punishment, Jack couldn't tell. His head dropped back against the ground, and he whined as the pounding became rougher and rougher.

"Stop..." he whispered, for the novelty of it, "Stop..."

He wondered where his date was. Whether his new boyfriend would see him like this. Would Oliver jerk off, watching him on the ground, being raped by some strange clown monster? Would he like it? Would he enjoy it as violently as Jack did?

"I..." Jack breathed, "Please... fuck me..."

The clown cooed happily. It placed its big hands on his shoulders, pinning him down. Their skin started to _slap, slap, slap,_ wet and furious. Jack, with a trembling hand, reached down to touch himself. He sensed that it was expected of him.

"Are you going- Are you going to come inside- inside me?"

The clown didn't answer. It just kept fucking him. Jack panted, unsteady fingers swirling against a sensitive bud of flesh, furthering the boiling sensations of desire that had been forced upon him. He didn't know what this was. This terrible thing they were doing. Why he forgot every time. What the clown actually was. What it wanted. Why it had chosen him as its target. Why it had followed him for so many years, eating up his pleasure and his fear like some kind of parasite.

"Please," he pleaded, gut clenching with spasms as he approached his own climax, "Please- Hhgh!"

The clown wrapped a hand around his neck. Cotton against fragile skin. Squeezing too hard. Sparks danced in Jack's eyes; he couldn't breathe. He was going crazy. Losing his mind. What would the seed inside him grow to become?

He couldn't fight back, couldn't reach up to loosen the clown's grip. When gloved fingers pressed against him, rubbing hard and cruel where he had been tentative and delicate, he shook, sensations overwhelming and cataclysmic. He let it happen. Let the clown fuck him until it was done, slamming forward one last time, arching its head, chin inclined towards the sky. Hot bursts of come swelled and exploded inside him. He lifted his head off the ground as he came too, body seizing. He looked at his belly and thought about the cock nestled deep inside his flesh. The come that was painting his insides. He wondered if he was pregnant now.

Then, the world fell away, and he was gone.

***

Oliver wandered around, trying to find his date. He was starting to get worried. He walked away from the crowds, pulling his phone out of his pocket, trying to find a quiet spot where he could call Jack. He heard the humming of a generator and decided that it wouldn't be too loud. Better that than the yells of delighted kids and their long-suffering parents.

Just as he was tapping against his phone screen, selecting Jack's number, he noticed a movement from the corner of his eye.

When he looked up, Jack was standing there. He was grinning, eyes heavy-lidded and calm, hands easy by his sides. He seemed utterly intact. His shirt and shorts were spotless.

"Hey, babe," Oliver said, sliding his phone away again, "I was so worried!"

Jack seemed to consider that for a moment, then strode forward. Their mouths met in an easy kiss, warmer and more passionate than any they'd exchanged before this point. Oliver felt his heart flutter in his chest. Jack's arms wound around his body, pulling them close.

"Shit," Oliver whispered against his lips, "What's all this about? Where did you go?"

"Take me home. Fuck me."

Oliver felt his pulse jump. "Are- Are you sure you're okay?"

Jack leaned away from him. There was something different about his eyes. When he smiled, Oliver felt a chill.

"I'm sure."


End file.
